


We've Got More Time [To Never Understand]

by sinandmisery



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinandmisery/pseuds/sinandmisery
Summary: Shaw's never been one for tradition, so why would Christmas Eve be any different?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lescousinsdangereux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lescousinsdangereux/gifts).



> Written for lescousinsdangereux for our secret santa fandom exchange. Also the first time I've written for these two so... O_O

The bitter New York winter wind whips around Shaw, the stray hairs poking out of her beanie swirling around and smacking her in the face. She leans back from the scope on her sniper rifle and tugs the zipper on her hoodie up, tucking the hood more securely around her neck like a scarf before fully zipping up her leather jacket as well. _At least isn't snowing,_ she thinks.

"Couldn't have managed a spot inside?" Shaw mutters as she looks back through the scope.

"Sorry, sweetie," Not-Root says in her ear. "Office building. None of those windows open and all that shattered glass would draw too much attention."

It's been 6 months and Shaw still isn't used to the way The Machine imitates Root, teasing nicknames and all. Shaw had tried for quite sometime to get her to use a different voice, but she seemingly took the _stubborn as hell_ aspect of Root's personality on as well, so she eventually gave up. After making sure their number shows no signs of movement, Shaw takes a swig of her long-cold coffee and grimaces at the sludgy taste.

"So what do we think our guy has gotten himself involved with here?"

Shaw listens intently as Not-Root starts rambling on about Russian arms dealers and off-shore bank accounts and uses her binoculars to sweep the sidewalks leading toward their number's building. She spots two burly looking men dressed in all black, one of them carrying a silver briefcase, pushing their way through the crowded streets and tells Not-Root, "I think we've got company."

There's a brief pause before a response. "Alexei and Kazimir Stepanov. Former KGB agents, current members of a branch of the Bratva. They're the buyers for whatever it is that our number has. Which is what we need to figure out."

Shaw focuses her attention back on their number, only to find that the table that he'd been sitting at for the past hour was now completely empty.

_Shit._

"Better hurry, Sameen. Our number's headed out the back and Boris and Natasha aren't going to be too happy when they make their way inside and he's not there."

Shaw grunts and breaks down her rifle, throwing it over her shoulder before leaping down the fire escape story by story as Not-Root rambles directions in her ear.

*

Shaw drags herself back into the safe house just after midnight, exhausted and freezing. Bear pads to the door and greets her enthusiastically, whining and weaving his way around her legs as she unloads her bag into the closet.

"Just a minute, boy," she says, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. Content with the brief moment of attention, he heads into the living room while Shaw finishes shucking her boots and jacket in the entryway.

She grabs a beer from the fridge before she crashes into the leather sofa, kicking her feet up on table as Bear leaps up on the couch next to her, resting his head in her lap.

"Long day, huh, Bear?"

He whimpers and Shaw pets him, chuckling as his tail thumps against the couch, echoing loudly through the room. She drinks her beer slowly as she decompresses, her muscles sore and screaming at her from the extra exertion in the cold weather.

She loses herself in a trance, staring at nothing in particular and relishing the sounds of New York filtering in through the windows. She's thankful for New York's inability to ever actually be quiet; she hasn't particularly done well with silence since being back, the rare moments allowing her brain to slip back into the moments of torture, where reality and simulation blur together.

She wakes up some nights, alone in bed in a cold sweat, from dreams of the barrel of her gun pressed to her own head, Root's voice ringing in her ears just before she pulls the trigger. Sometimes she's got Root's blood on her hands, her clothes, and she's trying to find the bullet Blackwell put in her, but there's just _so much blood_ and she can't do anything to stop it. Those nights are worse than others.

Bear jumps from the couch, drawing her out of her daze, and she stands and stretches before headed to the bathroom. She turns the hot water on full blast before stripping and stepping into the blazing hot spray. It's a shock, especially with how cold her skin is, but it feels good, and the heat combined with the massaging pulse of the shower head has the knots in her back and shoulders melting away instantly.

*

_Pancakes._

Shaw wakes up to the smell of pancakes wafting into her bedroom. She stretches, in no rush to get up, until it registers that _the smell of pancakes is coming from her kitchen_ and no one else is supposed to be in her apartment. She immediately leaps to her feet, grabbing the Nano stashed in her nightstand drawer and slowly makes her way into the kitchen, firearm drawn. She turns the corner to find Root standing at her stove, adding a freshly griddled pancake to the growing stack on the plate next to her.

_Ugh._

She should have known.

She tucks the Nano into her waistband and ventures fully into the kitchen. "Root? What the hell!"

Root turns, wolfish grin on her face. "Hey, sweetie."

"What the hell are you doing here, Root? I thought she had you off in Cape Town?" Shaw asks by way of response.

Root puts on her best pout. "Not happy to see me?"

Shaw snags the warm pancake from the top of the stack and eats half of it in one bite while glaring at Root. "You know how I feel about you sneaking in while I'm sleeping."

"Sorry, Sameen. It was early; didn't want to wake you," she says before turning back to the stove.

"S'fine," Shaw mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. She's not so much upset with Root sneaking in as she is with herself for not waking up before she did. She yawns and reaches across the counter to turn on the coffee maker, taking in Root's appearance while she waits for it to warm up.

A thin long sleeve shirt hangs off Root's shoulders, riding up just enough to show a hint of the scar where Shaw had dug the 6.5 bullet out. The circles under her eyes are dark, cheekbones a bit more gaunt than the last time Shaw saw her. The coffee maker beeps and Shaw drops a pod into the machine before adjusting to learn back to Root.

"Hey," Shaw says, reaching for Root's hips to pull her closer as soon as she turns. She squeezes gently, thumb grazing the scar, and leans up to kiss her for the first time in two weeks. It's gentle, just a brief greeting, but Shaw drags her teeth over Root's lip as they pull apart and Root hums in approval. "Glad you're back. And in one piece."

Root smiles fondly and kisses the corner of her mouth again before turning back to finish their breakfast. "Me too."

A warm glow from the living room catches Shaw's attention and she leans forward to find out where it's coming from. She shakes her head when she sees a tree standing in the corner that was empty just hours ago, a few gifts even tucked underneath. Bear is curled up next to it, tail wrapped around to cover his nose.

"A Christmas tree, Root? Really?"

Root shrugs. "Never had one before. Figured we could give it a shot."

"How did you even find a Christmas tree _and_ decorate it before-" she pauses, looking at the clock on the stove. "7 am on Christmas Eve?"

"I have my ways."

Shaw shakes her head again and pours their coffee. "Why am I not surprised she helped you with this?"

*

"I heard you had a fun run in with the Bratva last night," Root says, watching as Shaw shovels pancakes in her mouth like she hasn't eaten in weeks.

Shaw shrugs and reaches for the syrup, pouring more on. "Number tried to bail on a deal and they didn't like that too much."

"Sorry I missed it."

"What, stealing jets not cutting it for you anymore?"

"You know I always have more fun with you, Sameen," Root says, nudging Shaw's knee with her own. Shaw rolls her eyes and turns her focus back on her food, but doesn't move her knee from where it rests against Root's.

*

"Up for some Christmas Eve fun?" Root asks from the doorway of the spare room, watching Shaw clean her guns.

"Number?" Shaw asks, looking up from the USP she's reassembling. It's nearing midnight and several inches of snow are now on the ground, but Shaw is never going to turn down the chance to kneecap a few bad guys.

"Two. Criminals love Christmas. Reduced security everywhere."

Shaw smiles and slides the magazine in her firearm before standing up. "Too bad they weren't counting on us."

Root steps toward Shaw, pulling her into a brief kiss and slipping the gun from her hand. "Go get dressed. I'll stock up."

*

Their first stop is a car dealership. They arrive approximately three minutes before a van pulls up and four guys exit from the back doors, unloading an assortment of electronic equipment to bypass the alarm system and get in. It's clearly not their first go-round with this, but Root's already hacked into the security system of the dealership and is blocking their attempts to get in.

Even from across the lot, they hear a distinct _WHAT THE FUCK!?_ When they fail to crack the system right away. Root gives Shaw a sly smile and they exit the vehicle in sync, taking out the tires of the van first, then turning toward the crew.

The shots to the van have drawn their attention, but Shaw takes out two kneecaps before they can draw their own weapons. Root makes her way to the driver to zip tie him to the steering wheel, and Shaw closes in on the two remaining thieves.

She shoots one in the arm as he raises his gun, sending the firearm flying and the guy to the ground, clutching his arm and screaming a string of obscenities at her. The fourth charges at her with a knife and she dodges, bringing her knee up to connect with his gut. The knife drops as well as the guy, and Shaw steps on his hand when he reaches for it.

"Nuh uh," she says, reaching for the blade before moving her foot.

"C'mon, sweetie," Root calls from near the van. "She says police are on their way, 2 minutes."

Shaw pockets the blade and shoots the last guy in his kneecap for good measure, just to make sure he can't leave before the cops arrive. She follows Root to the car, noticing that the slight limp she's had since the shootout is a bit more obvious than it typically is.

"You okay?" Shaw asks when they climb back in the car and Root clicks the safety on both of her guns and slides them in her bag.

"Never better."

"You sure? I..."

"I'm fine," Root says, cutting her off. "The cold makes it ache a bit, but I'm fine, Sameen."

Shaw clicks the safety on her gun as well and hands it over. "It's cute that you care though," she says with a teasing smile.

Shaw grunts and starts the engine before shifting into gear, not wanting to discuss it further. Root casually drapes her hand over Shaw's on the gearshift and asks, "Ready for Round 2?"

*

Their second stop has them at a big box electronics store to take out a team of twelve, apparently set on clearing a large portion of the store, given the size of the two box trucks pulled up at the docking bays. After Root takes out the drivers and the two look outs with her tasers, they zip tie them and load them into the back of the unmarked trucks before heading into the store for the remaining eight.

"They've completely disabled the alarm and camera system," Root says as she pokes around the electrical box, a handful of stripped and snipped wires poking out. "No one will be responding until we call it in and she's blind with the whole system down."

Shaw sticks her head around the corner, listening to the movement in the store to try and gauge where the remaining members are.

"I'll go left, you go right; stay on the comms so we can keep track of how many are left."

They split the store, making their way quietly through the aisles. The silencers keep the noise to a minimum, but the fifth guy they take out crashes into a display and there's nothing Shaw can do to stop the chain reaction of flat screen TVs and home theatre systems from crashing down in a domino effect.

"Shit," she mutters as she hears the remaining three drop what they're doing, all on Root's side of the store. She hears gunfire and rushes toward the noise to back her up, but by time she arrives, they're all three on the ground in various distances from Root.

Because of the darkness of the store, Shaw doesn't notice the hole ripped through the arm of Root's jacket, blood coating the leather, until she's only a few steps away. Her mind flashes back and suddenly Root's blood is on her hands and Root is barely breathing on the bench of the subway as Shaw digs with forceps for the bullet buried deep in the muscle next to her hip.

She's ripped from her thoughts by hands on her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Shaw."

It's Root's voice. Shaw blinks, and refocuses her eyes, back in the present.

"Sameen. It's just a graze," Root says softly, shrugging the jacket off her left shoulder. She hisses softly when the material drags over the wound, and Shaw brings her fingers up to confirm Root's words.

"Let's get home and get you patched up," Shaw says, voice flat as she ignores the memories still trying to push their way to the front. She starts to move away but Root's hand on her wrist stops her. She spins around to face her, finding a smirk on Root's face as she points up with her uninjured arm.

_Mistletoe. Of-fuckin'-course._

Root kisses Shaw, soft and slow, pressing her body into Shaw in an effort to ground her and take her out of wherever her head went in that moment.

"Merry Christmas, Sameen," Root says when she pulls back, smiling at her.

Shaw laughs and shoves her good arm playfully. "Merry Christmas, Root."


End file.
